This is the thought that I ponder as I stuff rolled up pairs of jeans and vitamin supplements into my big red travel case. “Why?” I say.

It always seems like a good idea. We can leave after my husband gets off work making the most of the vacation time. We’ll get to Humboldt with time for breakfast with whoever retrieves us from the airport. I can sleep on the plane which will be just like getting a restful nights sleep in my bed at home… right?

WRONG… This is where I’m always wrong. I have this delusion that I’m gonna be able to sleep on the plane. That for some reason this time… unlike the 50 times before… I’m just gonna plop down in my seat close my eyes and drift off into a peaceful sleep surrounded by strangers breathing recycled air, then I’m gonna wake up 5 hours later at SFO and it’s only gonna seem as if it took 5 minutes to get there…

Hahahahaha… doubtful. Now I’m not gonna say it’s not possible, because I suppose it could be “possible”, but it’s sure as hell not likely. I can never sleep when I fly, there’s always something, and when I do nod off I never get past that stage right before restful sleep… It’s almost like being stuck in a deep meditation… except its not peaceful or restful and time doesn’t pass much faster…

But I do get to fly with my husband instead of by myself which is exciting because besides having the company it means he’s accompanying me on vacation which I LOVE! And in only 5 short hours we’ll be in California and then it’s just a puddle jump to Humboldt for breakfast with my parents!

I recently wrote a post entitled 2,387 Miles where I featured a photo of an airplane through the terminal window of San Francisco International. I got two different responses to this photo. One being that people loved it just as it was, and the second being that people thought it would be a better photo without the little white truck that appears in the middle of the left hand side. So I edited out the little truck, but I want you my readers to decide which photo should be featured in my previous blog.

Sometimes you want it, sometimes you need it, and sometimes you just plain gotta have it.

Hawaii gets to me, living in a place were you can only drive for so long before you end up right back were you started drives me crazy. Not to mention the dirt is the wrong color, the apples at the supermarket suck and don’t they know that beaches are supposed to be cold, gray and completely deserted short of the occasional surfer, dog walker and van full of stoner kids?

I miss the rain, and the fog, I miss waking up in the morning and having to muster up the strength to leave the warmth of the covers long enough to stoke the fire. I miss acres and acres of natural forests filled with tall trees, and the kind of lush greenery that thrives on a climate of cold wet winters and hot dry summers. I miss honey bees, and butterflies, the way the babbling of a creek in the distance can melt into the peaceful sounds of serene silence, and I miss my dogs.

photo by Castlelyn Carmona

I even miss the things I never liked in the first place… like seagulls. Now I’d say I hate seagulls, but hate is such a strong word so I’ll go with dislike, I very strongly dislike seagulls they’re like the rats of the sky, pesky, loud, always begging for bits of food, then blemishing your vehicle ungratefully whether you feed them or not, but somehow lately I even find myself wondering… where are the seagulls?

for me island fever is like finding a small splinter in the tip of my finger when there are no tweezers to be found. Without a quick fix I just try to ignore it hoping in the back of my mind that it will be purged by the natural functions of my body… a naïve short lived hope at the very least. When I wake up the next morning it’s been momentarily forgotten, I get out of bed and head for the shower. Still groggy I reach for the tap and… F*CK! I look to my hand and there it is right where I left it, but now it’s not only a little splinter, but it’s a little splinter on a finger that is throbbing and red with infection. I head to the medicine cabinet for a band-aid and some ointment, but there’s nothing to be found, no band-aids, no rubbing alcohol, and still no tweezers. So I give in, I turn off the tap, throw on some clothes and head downstairs to where my laptop is perched precariously on the edge of the couch. I sit myself down and arrange it on my lap as I let out a reluctant sigh of shrewd acceptance. I flip open the screen, and head for my favorite travel site, I type date a few days from now, and wait for the ridiculously expensive numbers to appear so that I can laugh at myself suck the splinter from my thumb, and move on with my life, but they never come the only numbers that grace my screen are reasonable… really really reasonable.

One phone call and a 500 dollar credit card purchase later the throbbing in my finger has stopped, and I’m on my way to a whole Humboldt full of metaphorical antiseptic.

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About India’s Roses

“Inspired Eclecticism” that’s what you’ll find here at India’s Roses a little bit of everything uniquely rolled into one; Crafts for your kids, Décor for your home, Photography for your soul, Food for your hunger and Interest for your life. Thank you for being here and Enjoy.